Smallpox (English version)
by ParijanTaiyou
Summary: Spoilers : 7x07. - House is ill. Really ill. How would Cuddy react ?
1. Prologue

_I wrote this story last November, after watching ' A Pox on our House '. I thought the episode wasn't dramatic enough, so I decided to write an other version.  
I'm French, not fluent in English, so there probably will be some mistakes. I'm sorry for that !  
Also, many thanks to HRL for beta-reading me ! :)_

_Spoiler : 7x07 ' A Pox on our House '_

_Disclaimer : I do not own House._

_

* * *

_

Cuddy was staring at the pieces of glass stuck inside her left hand without any reaction. It wasn't painful, at least not physically. Blood was running all over her wrist, the warm liquid squirting on her chest when she tried to move her fingers.

Whatever could happen, nothing would make her leave her bathroom's floor.

She wasn't going to pull through this.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Should I continue ?  
_


	2. Chapter 1

_Hi guys ! _  
_I want to thank you for your encouragements and all your reviews and your story alerts. They're deeply appreciated !_ :)

_Here is the first real chapter. The next chapters are already written, so they'll be online very soon !_

_Enjoy !_

* * *

_Four days earlier._

" You have any fever ?"

" Not yet. But when it does come, I assume you'll see the pettiness of being mad at me for lying. "

" Shut up, House." Cuddy smiled.

They were interrupted by a series of beeps given out by the monitor.

" I'll be right back."

He left Cuddy behind the glass and got closer to the dying man who took his oxygen mask off.

" I'm not gonna make it, am I ?"

He knew as well as him that it was over, interferon had been powerless, it wasn't a kidney cancer. He was terminally ill.

His wife was sleeping in the contiguous room. His son was holding his head.

" You should say goodbye to your family."

House was giving up.

He pushed the bed towards the glass on the right and went away. He was imagining how we would react if Cuddy was dying in this bed. And he couldn't answer this question.

House looked at her. He wanted to hold her tight and erase this sad pout off her face. Then he wondered since when he felt empathy for his patients. Maybe since he knew that he could have contracted smallpox ? That the virus might have affected him ? And that he wasn't sure if he was going to get out of this isolation room ?

A continuous ringing took grip of the room. House ran up, prepared the defibrillator, shocked the patient twice, thrice. No result. He tried a cardiac massage, refusing to let smallpox kill again. In vain.

Two fingers on his carotid confirmed the virus was back.

* * *

House had to stay in the room. He was alone, facing the corpse. Facing his failure.

He was running out of oxygen. Broda wouldn't let him take his suit off, in case he wasn't ill yet. Cuddy had insisted to take House to the fifth floor, but Broda stayed on his grounds : too dangerous.

" The problem is getting him from here to there."

" So it's inconvenient. Me having a fighting chance at life is inconvenient !"

" I'm sorry."

Broda went away.

" Of course he's sorry. Moron." House snarled.

" Don't do anything risky. I don't want you to die."

" So, you're not upset anymore ?"

" Upset or not, I need you." she confessed. " You really needed to get in there without protection, didn't you ?"

" I had to prove it was a kidney cancer."

" And you were wrong."

" But Broda doesn't let us work ! He's such a- "

" And what am I supposed to do, now ? Did you... think of me, before risking your life so easily ?"

He didn't answer and looked down at the floor. After a while, he raised his head up, and Cuddy remained voiceless.

" What ?"

" Your eyes."

" What's wrong with my eyes ?"

" They're red."

He saw Cuddy's misting up with tears and hurried to make the situation less dramatic.

" Great, so I can take this off. It's kinda warm down there !"

He did so, put his suit down in a corner of the room, and came back to Cuddy, holding his leg.

" Does it hurt ?" Cuddy asked.

" No, it's a bit stiff."

Cuddy pressed her forehead against the glass, trying not to cry.

" I miss you."

" You're talking as if I was dying."

He wanted to reassure her, but he was as scared as she was.

House laid his hand against the window. Cuddy did so, as if their fingers could intertwine.

" It's weird behind a glass." she said. " I wanna hold you..."

" Me, too."

She feebly smiled. They had to say goodbye to each other without a touch, and be separated that quickly ? Her fingers tensed and tears were back.

" Oh no, you're not gonna cry again !" House protested.

" Sorry."

She strove to pull herself together and rose her head to face House.

" I will save you." she promised.

" Yeah. Wonderbra is gonna save us all !... Sorry, I meant WonderCuddy." he said, eyeing her breasts.

Cuddy smiled. He was staying all the same and didn't fall down, it was a good sign.

" You should have some rest."

" I'm fine."

" Yes, that's why you're holding your head."

" You're right. But, too bad, the bed is already taken !"

" I'm gonna deal with this with Broda."

She has barely made three steps when House called her. She turned around to see him collapsing. Broda wasn't in his office so, without any hesitation, she pressed the alarm button before coming in the protection lock. She didn't take her time to put a suit on and got in the isolation room.

She heard steps behind her, followed by Broda's voice :

" Tell me it's a damn joke !"

Cuddy didn't react, fell to her knees, and slowly fondled House's forehead.

" Get out." House murmured before falling unconscious, his head resting on her thigh.

* * *

The CDC team has transferred the corpse to the morgue and had installed an extra bed in the room. Cuddy had pushed it towards House's and had lowered the handles to be as close to him as possible.

She laid on her side, took his hand, and watched him sleeping. And now she was seeing the pettiness of being mad at him for lying. He had done horrible things to her before, and she had always forgiven him.

" Do you need anything ?" Broda asked via the intercom. Cuddy told him she wanted her peace penguin.

" Peace penguin ?" he repeated, dazed.

" The plush on my desk."

" Oh. Fine."

" _Insane hospital._" he thought by walking towards the lifts.

The dean passed her hand on House's forehead. Thanks to the paracetamol, his fever was dropping.

She went along his nose with her fingertips, slid on his lips, retraced his jaw line.

House gently woke up, appreciating Cuddy's light touch.

" Oh, no. I told you to get out."

" I'm not the one who went in the room first."

Cuddy's hand lovingly stroked his cheek. They shared a brief, intense look, full of feelings. Cuddy craned to kiss chastely his lips.

" I'm sorry I lied to you."

" Shh."

She kissed him again, passing her tongue between her lips to graze his. House circled her with his arm, stiffening when he saw Broda putting the plush in the box.

Cuddy ended their embrace.

" I'll be right back."

Where could she go, anyway ?

Laboriously advancing to the box, she suddenly thought it was pretty hard to stand up. She went back to bed with her plush and curled up in the diagnostician's arm, turning up her nose at blinding phosphenes.

" I like it, even if you stole it from a comatose patient. Actually, I like it a lot. I would have slept with it, but I didn't want you to be jealous."

" Jealous of a penguin ? Are you kidding ? It can't even vibrate ! If I had known, I would have offered you one these plastic ducks..."

Cuddy looked at him. His eyes were circled by red, and she couldn't stand it. She was going to watch him die, she was aware of this. Maybe knowing she will follow him was reassuring her... She had never been afraid by death, but intrigued, almost fascinated. The heart stops, nothing left in the body works, a life ends in a second. Death is odd.

" I liked you, as an orange cosmonaut." she smiled.

She released her plush and took his hand. Her fingers slid between his, got down on his palm and applied themselves to retraced his lines, as a clairvoyant. She circled his wrist in order to explore the back of his ageing hand. His veins and phalanges were showing through his thick and rough skin. She adored his hands. Every time he touched her, she was amazed by how she felt strong and fragile at the same time. She loved thinking they could talk with their hands.

" Your hands are warm." House noticed.

" Yours are cold."

He separated his fingers from hers and felt her forehead.

Fever.  
" I am gonna ask for some paracetamol."

" No, it's not worth it." refused Cuddy, taking back his hand. " I am going to die anyway."

She knotted his pianist fingers to hers, rolled on her side and laid her head on his shoulder.

" You want to punish yourself. Why ?"

" Dying feverish is not a punishment." She buried her nose is his neck. " And why would I want to punish myself ?"

" You're angry with yourself because you were mad at me during our last days of freedom, and the last time we had sex seems so far away-"

" Three days, House."

" So you're going to die frustrated."

He felt her chuckling against his Adam's apple. He kissed her hair and laid his chin on her head.

" You should sleep."

" I'm afraid." she confessed. " What if I wake up, and you... you're..."

She was fighting to not cry. The reality of death was so present and oppressing...

" It won't happen."

House set up the blanket back to her shoulders, and Cuddy entangled her legs to his. He slowly lulled her as her tears rushed. Then, exhausted, Cuddy fell asleep.

* * *

_TBC.._


	3. Chapter 2

_Many thanks for your feedback ! I hope this chapter won't disappoint you !_

_Enjoy !_

_

* * *

_

Cuddy's condition was dramatically lowering. The fever had climbed, she was shivering, her green overall was wet from sweat.

Broda passed in front of the room. House waved him to require some syringes with paracetamol. A few moments later, the doctor came in the room, bundled up in his orange suit.

" I have to examine you."

" Looks like it's not really going to be possible right now." House retorted, pointing out Cuddy, who was sleeping curled up in his arms.

" Wake her up. Otherwise I'll do it myself."

House was forced to obey. He gently shook her shoulder. She moaned and was shaken by a spasm.

" Cuddy, wake up."

" I'm cold."

She opened her eyes. Red. House seized a syringe and injected the liquid in her arm.

" I told you I wanted none." she protested.

Broda was getting impatient.

" May I examine you, now ?"

Cuddy rolled away, curled in the sheet.

Broda was finishing inspecting House's body when he noticed a rash on his back.

" Does this itch ?"

" It's smallpox, of course it itches !" House rebuffed him, with a little bit of impatience.

The doctor left the room, after giving a brand new overall to Cuddy.

She laid down by House's side, who was barely reaching his rash.

" Get on your stomach." she ordered.

He obeyed with a little reticence. He wouldn't let her see the rash. No way. She sat upon him, her pelvis resting on his ass.

" Don't you dare." he said when she set aside his overall. " It's not beautiful."

" And how do I scratch you if I can't touch ?"

" You can stay here. It's nice."

She smiled and slowly retraced his spine, then deviated to go along each one of his ribs. His skin was rough underneath the garment. She explored each part of his back, insisting where she could hear him moaning.

" Feeling better ?"

" On the left, on the left... here, here, yes yes yes !"

She scrubbed his shoulder blade, until causing the semblance of an orgasm. House heaved a sigh and slackened. Cuddy stroked his back a last time and cautiously laid on it, setting her hands on his, and burying her head into his neck.

" The rash has expanded to your arms." she noticed

" That's normal."

She had almost forgotten that they were going to die.

" Have you slept yet ?"

" No."

" You should."

Cuddy kissed his shoulder.

" I don't feel like sleeping."

" You're afraid."

" You're heavy."

She deviated and laid on her stomach, her side brushing is. Wanting to wipe out his pout, she retraced his brows, that kept on frowning.

" Get some sleep." she said again. " I'll be right here."

He finally let himself convince, closed his eyes, and held her hand tight. Once she was sure he was asleep, Cuddy cried.

* * *

House spent the few hours that Cuddy slept staring at her.. He just couldn't close his eyes, knowing it was their last night together. He wasn't going to survive the next 24 hours.

He had warmed her legs tangled up in his, lulled her when she was quivering. He observed her all night long, never getting tired of her sleepy face, her deep and regular breathing, and her nose that frowned when she was dreaming. She had eventually curled up, laid low by fever.

Her burning skin against his made him realize he hadn't taken care of her, as he promised. She would have never been ill. Once again, he had failed...

* * *

Cuddy wiped off her last tears and dared looking at House. His features were stiff, his hand was firmly holding hers; he was in pain. The awful sensation of having abandoned him was pursuing her; he couldn't have leaned on her as he always had. If she had been more present, he wouldn't have contracted smallpox. He wouldn't be in an isolation room with catheters almost everywhere. It would have been perfect.

She drew closer to him, wedging her cheek against his shoulder. She put a leg between his, but immediately withdrew it, feeling it wasn't as usual. Cuddy lifted the sheet and discovered vesicles on his limbs.

The next hours were going to be the most difficult.

* * *

A lighting pain went through House's leg, brutally waking him up. Cuddy was staring at him, with a sad and powerless pout. She had accepted that she couldn't take his pain away.

" Turn around."

But she knew how to decrease it.

And he knew what was her idea, behind her determined tone.

She took the sheet off, laid her hands on the disabled thigh with no hesitation. Before, she was always afraid of making his pain even worse. So he used to take her hands to guide her.

She was proud to have the power to help him. To be more efficient than an ibuprofen pill. He sometimes told her so.

Cuddy let herself being guided by her instinct, this kind of sixth sense that dictated her the right things to do when House was in trouble. Her fingers were just grazing his thigh, subtly going along his scar. She progressively stopped her caresses when he sighed, well-at-ease.

House held out his hands, Cuddy caught them, and he attracted her to him.

She hated that he was cuddling her when it meant he was afraid. She knew he wasn't invincible, but she was refusing to know he was powerless.

" I want you." he suddenly murmured.

" I know."

Not that powerless, in fact.

" And... Here, now, we can't... You see what I mean ?"

" There are no blinds, House. Anyone could see us."

" Oh, come on..." he insisted. " Later, you won't agree because I will be covered with pustules."

" You will never disgust me."

" I think your boobs are bigger than usual, aren't they ?"

" You would like it, huh ?" she sneered.

He raised up her chin, voluptuously kissed her and slid down on her neck. He sucked her skin, fell on this small cavity by her carotid. She let a small gasp out, clearly meaning she was all his. She could never resist.

He covered them with the sheet, like two shy teenagers. They made love in an infinite sweetness, transmitting to each other more love than they have ever felt. Each one of their kisses, their caresses was full of emotion; the two lovers knew it was the end, but they couldn't let the other one go. They weren't saying a word, the act shouting at them what they couldn't say. Their mouths didn't separate, damping their groans. It was all the same with their breasts, intimately connected to each other.

Their last time was way more intense than their first.

They shared a devastating ecstasy, and stayed close to each other, still cuddling, mixing their appeased breathings.

Cuddy thought the worst was behind them, until House's breath increased, followed by the maddened monitor.

* * *

[ _Music : _Faintest of Sparks_ by Amandine ]_

His vital functions had considerably declined. House couldn't breathe without an oxygen mask, was feverish and, as he said earlier, he was covered with pustules.

Cuddy was refusing to take some paracetamol. She thought she was betraying House.  
His deep breathing by her side was reassuring her, as much as it was terrifying.

They were talking with their eyes, sometimes accompanying their silent talks with a caress now and then.

House was going to die. In the next hours. Maybe it was only a matter of minutes. Cuddy knew that. She also knew she was going to follow him.

Her arms were itching.

* * *

House took his mask off.

" I think it's the moment."

Cuddy felt tears coming up to her eyes. She wasn't ready.

" No."

House took her in his arms, and muttered in her ear :

" What I'm going to tell you is very, very cliché, but it's sincere. I love you, Lisa Cuddy. I'll always love you..."

She couldn't help but crying.

" Would you stop crying if I told you I will miss your ass ?"

He succeeded to make her smile, in spite of the torrents of tears running down her cheeks. Cuddy's small fists gripped his overall, her sobs crashing around his chest.  
He didn't want to die like this.

" Lisa, please..." he begged.

" You never call me Lisa..."

He made her shut up by hardly kissing her, then more tenderly, he couldn't help being gentle.

Their last kiss seemed to last an eternity. A too short eternity.

His tired breathing compelled him to forsake her lips, but he didn't pull away, pressing his forehead against hers.

" Hold me. " he demanded.

She strengthened her embrace, as a single tear slid along his cheek.

" You made me happy, you know that ?"

" I know... Wait for me. You promise ?"

" I promise."

He knew she believed in afterlife as much as him : not at all. But this time, they wanted to believe in a happy illusion : that they'll only be separated for a few hours. After this, the nightmare would come to an end.

" I love you, House. I love you so much..."

House held her tighter, almost making her suffocate. Their eyes locked onto each other, House closed his eyelids a very last time and let his last breath dying on his woman's lips.

At first, Cuddy didn't realize it was over. The heart she liked to hear beating when she used to set her head on his torso wasn't beating anymore. Everything seemed so unreal.

She kissed his mouth a last time. His lips didn't react as usual, they stayed still. This is probably what broke her the most.  
She was alone.

_Dragged through the mire_

_And into the light_

_You did something selfish_

_But you did what was right_

_

* * *

TBC...  
Please. Don't kill me ! ;)  
_


	4. Chapter 3

_Once again, thanks for your awesome feedback ! You guys are amazing !_

_This is the last chapter of my story. Hope you enjoy it !_

* * *

Cuddy was a prisoner of her silence. She held still, she wasn't saying a word. She was simply letting herself die.

House was by her side. She held his hand, as if she was scared of loneliness.

Masters arrived, breathless, and stood behind the glass.

" Dr Cuddy ! It's not smallpox !"

" What are your thoughts ?" Cuddy asked, suddenly resuscitated.

" Rickettsialpox. It's curable. I have to examine Dr House-"

" It's OK. I can do it by myself."

She didn't want anyone else to touch him.

She set the sheet aside with difficulty, her hands shaking.

" What am I supposed to look for ?"

" Eschars."

" He doesn't have eschars ! I would have seen..."

Cuddy saw a black crust on his collarbone. Masters was right.

She wasn't going to die.

She gripped the sheet, refusing to admit the evidence. What she thought being a scar from stitches was the proof that she could have saved him.

And, if House really had smallpox, the rash would have started from his head, not his back. She was such a paltry doctor...

She felt her tears coming back, and let them run on her cheeks.

Cuddy fell on House's cold torso. She was imagining him, stroking her hair, telling her that it wasn't a big deal.

But he would inevitably be upset.

* * *

" Can I come in ?" Wilson asked, before noticing he didn't wait for Cuddy's answer and reached for her bed.

She slowly turned her head to him. Wilson's eyes were swollen, he seemed as lost as she was.

" Code seven is over." he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She replied with an approving toss of the head. The oncologist insisted :

" You wanna talk ?"

" Not really."

Broda had moved her in a 'classic ' room, now that he was sure that she hadn't smallpox. That nobody had it.

House wasn't with her any more. She could barely realize that she wasn't going to see him ever again, except on a few photos.

" He's dead, James. What am I gonna do ?"

" You have Rachel."

" Yes..."

A heavy silence fell on the room, before Wilson eventually spoke :

" I came for a blood sample."

Cuddy gave him her arm, letting the oncologist plant his syringe. He noticed the two pills on the bedside table. They had been there for a few hours and, obviously, Cuddy didn't want to take them.

" Is it doxycyclin ?"

" It is."

" You think dying is a good choice ?"

" I don't know."

" Take the pills, Lisa. Tomorrow, you'll be discharged."

" And where will I go ?"

Her answer surprised him.

" I could have saved House. We would have been together for ten, twenty years. I screwed up everything..."

" You couldn't have known."

" Yes I could."

Wilson put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Cuddy choked back her tears.

" I don't want to leave him."

" He would want you to take the treatment. You have a child, you can't leave her."

" But I... I promised..." she stammered.

" You deserve to live on. He knows that."

The argument scored a bull. Cuddy swallowed the pills and curled up into a ball.

" I'll come back later."

" Hm-hum."

Wilson left her alone. He had a lot of work tonight.

* * *

A sleepless night later, Cuddy took her medicine again, intending to overcome House's death. It was going to be difficult, but she wanted to do it for Rachel. She was going to get out of her hospital, sneak off to her mom's to take her daughter back.

Wilson came in the room, a paper in his hand, nervously twisting his fingers. He was still hesitating, not knowing if what he was going to tell her was going to help her or to kill her.

" James ? Is everything okay ?"

" You should sit down."

" Why ?" she asked, sitting on her bed.

" I analysed your blood, and there is a problem. It's your alpha-fetoproteins rate."

She stared at him, before yelping :

" You sure ?"

He gave her the crumpled paper.

" I verified three times. 40 micrograms per litre of blood."

" It's nothing, it could be a liver cancer. Dammit ! You're an oncologist and you can't diagnose a damn cancer ?"

Wilson looked at her, with no ambiguity.

" I'm 41." Cuddy said. " I went through three IVF, all of them ended in failure, and you're telling me I'm pregnant ?"

Wilson sat next to her. Talking would release her, and he was ready to make her speak as much as it was possible.

" What about condoms ?"

" We didn't think that I could... You know..."

She sighed, read the test again, and put a hand on her stomach. There was someone down here ?

" I don't want to." she suddenly said.

She stood up, letting the paper fall on the mattress.

" I don't want to..." she repeated.

She picked her bag up, put her penguin in it and escaped from the room before Wilson could catch her.

* * *

She found shelter in the morgue, needing to say goodbye to House one last time.

One day, he had had lunch here, just to bother her. She had had to call him ' Sweet sauce ' to make him stop. It was humiliating, but fun.

When she found _the _drawer, she hesitated again. She knew it was the last time she would physically see him, and that he would look deader than in his bed.

Cuddy eventually opened the drawer. His massive body was covered with a shroud, the traditional label hung at his toe.

A corpse among others. That's what he was. But for Cuddy, he would always be the most incredible man she had ever known.

She reached the top of his body and took the sheet off, down to his shoulders.

He was pale and cold. His lips had turned to blue.

Cuddy stroked them with her fingertips, then grazed his cheek.

" Forgive me." she murmured. " Forgive me my love. I wish you were with me right now... Oh, I wish you knew..."

She couldn't stand it. Pain was too huge.

" Sleep well. I love you."

She could barely leave him. She put the sheet back on and gave him back to the Death, the squeak of the drawer going with her until she completely closed it in a dull sound that shook her temples.

She took a deep breath, got out of the morgue, and left her hospital.

* * *

House had given her a spare key, telling her that if she wanted to wait for him, naked on the bed, it would please him. It was his way to tell her that now it was her home too.

Cuddy was holding this key in her hand. She unlocked the door and came in the flat.

Memories were painfully back. She stayed still, becoming saturated with happy moments she had in the living room in front on her.

_Because I forgot to grab a ' V '._

She wouldn't be able to play boggle any more.

_So, unless you're breaking up with me, I'm going home now._

_I love you._

She left the room and went to the bedroom. _Their _bedroom.

_And I slipped the nanny forty bucks, told her to stay till ten._

_Really ?_

_Hum, really !_

Remembering each one of their nights, she entered the bathroom. Where she saved him, where she gave herself to him, where everything started _again._

_I love you._

She put one of her hands on her stomach. She couldn't let the small human being grow inside of her. House was dead, she couldn't do it without him.

_I wish I didn't._

Then she wondered how he would have reacted. Would he have rejected her ? Yes, running away from a huge responsibility such as being a father seemed like him. But, on the other hand, he loved her. He would have supported her.

She could barely realize that she was pregnant. She had always dreamed of giving birth, having her own little baby. She had adopted, because her body didn't want her to deserve this happiness. She had lost Joy. So House had kissed her to comfort her, and they had taken a dark road. Almost two years later, Cuddy ended this trip.

She had a daughter. She had House. And her dream has just ended. House died. She was going to stop the pregnancy she had always wanted.

Cuddy stood in front of the mirror, above the washbasin.

She had lost everything. And it was her fault. She could have saved House.  
Life was unfair.

" No !" she cried out, throwing her fist into the mirror that broke. Fragments drove in her palm, cutting her fingers.

She stepped back to the closest wall, staring at her injured hand. She slid to the floor and desperately tried to extract some fragments. She made her bleeding worse and gave up.

" House... Take me home..." she murmured.

Whatever could happen, nothing would make her leave her bathroom's floor.

She wasn't going to pull through this.

**END**

* * *

_Rickettsialpox was actually a wrong diagnosis because this disease isn't transmitted person to person._

_I am currently working on an other translation. ;) See you soon !_

_Hugs, xx  
_


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